


Seconds

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, References to BDSM, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seconds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbeyjewel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbeyjewel/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There’s a hazy in-and-out stage where James can’t tell if someone’s really crying or if it’s just in his dream.

Then something nuzzles into the back of his neck, bulbous and a little wet, and James grunts sleepily, “Keep your big nose off my neck.” He regrets opening his eyes as soon as he does; the moonlight, however pale and muted through his curtains, is still a pain. With a groan, James tries to roll away from it, but the bony arms around his waist are clamped too tightly to him. 

Grumbling in annoyance and thankful for the near-permanent Silencing Charm he’s fixed to his bed, James pries away the frail limbs and mutters, “Jeez, Snivellus, are you trying to suffocate me here?” But when he does manage to roll over in his semi-boyfriend’s arms, he regrets that, too. 

The moonlight makes it possible to see the glint of tears on Severus’ pale cheeks, streaked with the trails of many more. His shoulders are shaking, and he hiccups as James looks at him: the very definition of pathetic. Something pings in James’ chest, but it’s not in his nature to apologize. Severus turns and buries his face in James’ pillow, the tangle of too-long black hair sliding down to cover the view. James grimaces half at the sight and half at tears and snot being rubbed into his pillow, but all he does is sigh. He puts a sturdy hand on Severus’ trembling bicep, and he asks as softly as he can manage, “What’s wrong?”

Severus shakes his head. He mutters something like, “Didn’t mean to wake you up,” but the pillow muffles it. James rolls his eyes and resists the too-easy urge to snap. He’s never sweet after first waking up. 

He’s not very sweet at all, but he still tries to not bite Severus’ head off as he does too often. “Then you should’ve told me what was wrong earlier.” A second later he frowns, considering aloud, “Was it the sex? Was I too rough?” And as he says it, his fingers curl around Severus’ shoulder, dusting over the still-apparent, angry red lines in the sallow skin. He’s always rougher than he should be, but Severus doesn’t stop him, and sometimes Severus just gets his blood rushing, one way or another. He idly traces the teeth marks and finger-grooves left over, then closes his hand around Severus’ neck, still pink from where the collar tightened—one of James’ favourite toys—and Severus shudders at the touch. 

“No,” he mumbles. James doesn’t stop; neither of them have bothered putting any clothes back on, and every part of Severus’ body is marked in one way or another. It’s good for both of them that he’s partial to long, modest robes. “I was just...” But he trails off and sniffs. He’s too proud for his own good, sometimes. Damn Slytherins. James pets through Severus’ slick hair and dons a stern look; he wants to be told. Though Severus struggles halfway between a sneer and a pout, he admits quietly, “I got another letter this morning... from my parents...” And that’s enough; they’re never good. 

James frowns and drops his hand away. He _knows_ Severus is abused at home, even if Severus never comes out and says it. But he won’t go to a professor, someone who could really help, and he never tries to break away—just flounders under the dark pretenses they set him. In some ways, James wouldn’t mind stealing Severus away for the summer, keeping him like this, protecting him from the kind of purebloods that James is lucky enough not to know, not to mention tying him up to James’ home bed and dressing him up in Muggle lingerie, teasing and taunting and touching without the threat of class in the morning...

But Sirius _has_ asked for help, and for that alone, he deserves it more. He’ll come home with James instead. Having them together wouldn’t help anyone. So James just nods in acknowledgement and leans in for a chaste kiss; however cruel he is in the light of day, however cruel Severus’ parents are, here, in their secret sanctity of James’ Gryffindor bed, Severus Snape is _safe._

He pulls at James’ neck and tries not to let him leave, and when he breaks away, Severus murmurs in frustration, “Fuck me again.” James snorts, but Severus is clearly serious. One of those talented hands skims down James’ body, but he snatches it before it passes his hip, and when Severus tries to buck his crotch against James’, James pulls farther away. Severus glares, hurt through the anger, and James knows that he wants to be truly _fucked_ in this moment—pinned down and ripped apart. Physical pain to take away the emotional side. It’s one thing when James is horny himself. It’s another when he’s Severus’ razor. 

And he’s tired, so he just grunts, “Tomorrow,” and rolls suddenly onto Severus. Right on top of him. Crushes him down into the mattress, unapologetically heavy, not holding on, just existing in his space. Severus whimpers and tries vainly to push at James, but James is stubborn and already trying to fall back asleep. 

In the end, Severus gives up and simply clings to him, wraps trembling arms around him and holds him tight. James protects Severus’ front, and the blankets protect his sides. Sometimes he thinks that if Severus really, truly changed, left the dark path his ‘friends’ are spiraling down and fought for the light, maybe, just maybe, they could really work. 

But for now they’re a tangled mess of teenage angst and bristling, clashing personalities, and the thick stench of sex from when it all peaks. James crushes away his ‘boyfriend’s’ air and slips back to sleep, fire-warm.


End file.
